I'll sit and smoke a cigarette with death,
before we step.
We'll share a couple shots of bourbon,
then we'll down whatever's left.
I could argue on our love,
and all the memories we've kept.
But a part of me is bound,
just to stand and accept.
I don't enjoy a wasted word,
it'll leave me bereft.
So I'll just look him in the eye,
take a drag and save breath.